


Chains Forged in Life

by destieldearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destieldearie/pseuds/destieldearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Secret Santa 2015 gift for druidkitty<br/>prompt: "you're a mean one Mr. Gold"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    Mr. Gold walked the holly and tinsel lined streets of Storybrooke, Maine with a smirk plastered across his face. He was not on his way to spread joy, but rather to take some away. Oh yes, Christmas was his favorite time of year, but not for conventional reasons. Sure, it had been a peaceful holiday filled with cheer in the past, but that was before he’d lost everything; everything that had mattered anyway. Now, he enjoyed ripping the rug out from under people as they delighted in and indulged in every inane pleasure, as though they felt there was nothing wrong with the world. In his musings, Gold had failed to notice Sister Astrid approaching him with a level of determination he hadn’t seen from her in years.

     “Mr. Gold,” she cried as he passed her. “Mr. Gold, please,” she raised her voice as she grabbed his arm.

     “This could be fun,” he thought to himself. He turned on her and snarled, his eyes growing dark,  “Watch yourself, dearie.”

     “It’s for the poor,” she whispered, losing her nerve.

     “Ah, yes. The  _poor_ ,” Gold sneered.

     It only took another few seconds of him staring at the Sister until she scurried away like a frightened mouse. Chuckling inwardly, he continued on to his destination. Moe French was behind on his payments and he was going to collect.

     Mr. Gold walked into Game of Thorns with an air of confidence about him with Moe’s contract sitting snugly in his jacket pocket. While he waited for Mister French to make his appearance, Gold took in the gaudy decorations scattered around the shop and grimaced as the awful poinsettias made his eyes water and his nose itch.

     “Merry Chris-” French started, but faltered when he realized who his customer actually was, “it’s you.”

     “Yes, Mister French, it’s me,” Gold replied, “time’s up.” He flipped the sign closed and with a small smirk asked, “I expect you have my money?”

     Gold silently laughed at the sight the larger man was making, wringing his dingy ballcap in his hands with fear in his eyes. “N-not yet. If we could just have-”, Moe stuttered.

     “I believe I already granted you an extension,” Gold interrupted, “two in fact.”

     “There must be something I can do. You can’t take the shop, it’s all we have,” French whispered.

     “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you offered it as collateral,” Gold replied smugly.

     “Christmas is two days away, you can’t do this,” French countered.

     Gold reached into his pocket,  rolling his eyes and scoffing as Moe flinched, “Oh relax, I’m not going to shoot you.” He unfolded the contract and shoved it under Moe’s nose, “I believe this says I can take your shop and the apartment above it.”

     “But what am I supposed to do about Christmas? It’s two days away, I’ll get your money after. I just need a few more days,” Moe pleaded.

     “Yes, it is isn’t it? Such a poor excuse to pick a man’s pocket every 25th of December, Mr. French. The answer’s ‘no’. I gave you a loan and I expect to be paid back, every cent with interest, today.”

     “You’re a monster, Gold.” French whispered as he dug around in his pocket for the keys to the shop. He knew what the contract said. After he relinquished the keys, they’d have seventy-two hours to vacate the shop and the small apartment upstairs.

     “I don’t recall claiming to be Mother Teresa,” Gold intoned dryly as he held his hand out for the keys.

     With unshed tears in his eyes, Moe was about the release his grip on his keys when someone came bursting in, screaming, “Wait!”

     Gold turned his attention to the petite brunette that had just burst into the front room . Something about her captivated his attention and he momentarily forgot the reason he was standing in Moe’s godforsaken shop to begin with. Her eyes were breathtakingly beautiful, so blue he thought it possible to drown in their depths, and her accent, Gold knew he’d never forget it as long as he lived.  _“Get a hold of yourself, Gold. Since when did you become a sentimental tosser?”_

     He was brought back to the present when Moe barked, “Belle, not now.”

     “Yes, not now,  _child,_ ” Gold chorused. The girl, Belle as Moe had so helpfully supplied, turned her eyes on him and until that moment, Gold had no idea something so beautiful could also be so dangerous.

     “I’m  _not_  a child, but you  _are_  a monster,” she hissed. And with that remark, an idea began to take hold in Gold’s mind. He could let Moe keep his poorly managed flower shop and take the girl away. Well, she could work to pay off her father’s debt in his shop. He wasn’t that kind of monster after all.

     “How about a new contract, Mr. French,” Gold said, a large smile beginning to blossom across his face as his eyes turned cold.

     Moe squinted and he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Name your price,” he ground out.

     “My price,” Gold began, his dark eyes stared into Moe’s before he rounded on the girl, “Is her.” Belle’s eyes widened in shock and Moe pushed her behind him.

     “Never,” Moe shouted in anger. “Take the bloody shop, you monster, and get out. Get out…you…you beast,” French continued, throwing the keys at him.

     “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. French,” Gold snickered as he sauntered out of the door and out into the bitter Maine winter. He ignored the anguished sounds coming from the shop as he walked back down the holly and tinsel lined streets to his shop. He’d send Dove round to get the van parked out front later today and he’d go back in a few days to make sure they cleared out. People lept out of his way and suddenly found their shoes entirely too interesting as he walked past. Surely they had heard about what had happened with the mousy nun earlier and they’d soon hear about the poor travesty he’d inflicted on the French family. The good citizens of Storybrooke despised him and that was the way he liked it. A well timed glare sent the unassuming school teacher into a frenzy that caused her to drop her coffee onto her tacky Christmas sweater. “Now,  _this_  is what Christmas is all about,” he thought to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

_He didn’t know how long he’d been standing outside the door, waiting for his father to return. The cold rain was beginning to pool around his feet when he felt a warm hand gently guide him inside the warm house. “I don’t think he’s coming back dear,” the woman said as she guided him to the couch and took off his wet shoes.  
_

_“He promised. He said this time was different,” the little boy sniffled as tears started to fall down his cheeks._

_“I know, but sometimes people can be selfish and cruel without realizing the consequences of who they are hurting,” she replied._

_“But it’s Christmas,” he whispered._

_“I know dear, I know.”_

* * *

     The week after the holidays was always busy; with people returning the items they had no use for, but no one bothered venturing into the pawn shop to hassle Mr. Gold for a return. He was sitting at the desk, which was hidden away in the back of his shop, looking over the upcoming January collections when he heard the little bell above the door ring out.  “Mr. Gold,” an accented voice called out. He remembered that voice, Belle French, with her lilting accent. She must have come to shout at him some more like she had the day after the incident, or maybe she had come to reconsider his offer. If he was honest with himself, he hoped it was the latter. He couldn’t explain why he felt a desire to be close to her, it was unlike anything he’d experienced before. He would never admit it, but that desire scared him. “Mr. Gold,” she called out again.

     “Yes Miss French I’m coming. I do have to ask you to keep your voice down as I have no desire to listen to your squawking tirade again, dearie,” he replied as he pulled the curtain aside. He felt her gaze turn hostile long before he met her eyes, his cane the only noise as he walked behind the counter. When he met her gaze, he saw her jaw clench and her cheek twitch.

     “I’m not here to tell you what a grinch you are, as I’m sure you’re already aware how terrible you’ve been. I’m here to discuss the new contract you offered my father.”

     His gaze turned lecherous as he leaned in closer, “Yes, I’ll let your father keep his shoddy flower shop and you can start working for me to begin paying off his accumulated interest. Your father will still be responsible for the initial loan, however.”

     “I’ll just work here in the pawnshop,” she questioned nervously, wanting to make sure there was no confusion about her duties.

     “Yes, of course. I may a difficult man, but I’m not nearly as monstrous as that, dearie,” Gold scoffed. “You’ll just dust, sort through the items in the basement, and perhaps catalogue a few pieces that I haven’t had the chance to.” Belle thought about the man standing before her and she was intrigued. She had no doubts that working for the town miser would not be a blessing, but she wondered if there truly was a man behind the monster. She supposed there was only one way to find out and as she began to speak, she couldn’t help the blossom of hope that flared in her heart. She was finally going to get out from under her father’s thumb; She was finally making her own decisions and laying the foundations for her own future, no matter how notorious her co-conspirator.

     “You’ll write up the contract and I’ll be here tomorrow to sign it. You’ll give my father back his keys to the shop today as well as the van. You do that, and I’ll work here,” she said, standing up straight, in an attempt to appear taller than her own five feet.

     Gold was impressed. She left no loopholes for him to expertly exploit, and she appeared to be desperate to help her father while making her own way in the world. That grit and desire to do whatever it took for a small amount of independence and to make one’s own way was something he could admire. He’d scratched and clawed for a way out of Glasgow, so that he escape the tarnished reputation his father had left him with, when the man had abandoned him on that doorstep so many years ago.

     “And pray tell, Ms. French, what are you going to say to your father? I sincerely doubt that he’ll believe I’m giving him his business back out of the goodness of my heart,” Gold inquired, his eyebrow arched.

     “I’ll tell him the truth after the deal is done. He can’t stop me if I’ve already made my decision. I make my own fate,” Belle said, a fire starting in her eyes.

     As the bell rang out, signaling her departure, Gold let his thoughts drift once more to the mysterious Belle French. He could appreciate a pretty face, but that hadn’t been the reason why he offered her a job. He had no desire to help Moe French;the man had a gambling problem combined with a nasty habit of borrowing more money than he could pay back. He recognized pieces of himself in her; pieces that in him had long morphed into something ugly and beastly. She itched for a way to make a name for herself that wasn’t stained by her mismanaging father and the fire in her eyes reminded him of the young law student he had been years ago. Gold had long stopped caring how the world perceived him. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t find the will to care. Keeping people at a distance out of a crippling fear to lose anything else was most effective when everyone hated you and thought you a beast. He sighed and made his way back to the desk where his collection book lay open. He’d already wasted nearly an hour dealing with that silly girl, and he needed to prepare space for the new items that were sure to trickle in in the coming days.  People would be looking to make a quick dollar on the terrible presents they’d received. As the bell again rang out  he rolled his eyes. There was one thing everyone in Storybrooke understood: Mr. Gold was a misanthrope, but some days, people came by to poke the beast. Although, after his impromptu meeting with Miss French he couldn’t stop that nagging feeling that he’d like having Miss French near and  _that_  just wouldn’t do. 


	3. Chapter 3

_In the end, his parents couldn’t even make it an entire Christmas morning without his mom saying something that made his papa go quiet and look back at him with sadness pooled in his eyes. Bae looked outside at the snow falling steadily,just as it had been since last night, then glanced at his papa’s study. His parents had excused themselves from lunch an hour ago and he could still hear them shouting through the door. He needed to get out of the house and away from the shouting, away from her. As he stood in the hall dressing for a walk, he heard a crashing sound coming from the other side of the door. He sighed; his mother was probably throwing things again. With one last glance at the study door, he opened the door and walked outside into the blizzard. As he walked down the sidewalk he thought,  “Maybe next year Papa and I will finally get out of Storybrooke.”  The snow obscured everything but the hand in front of his face, so that he never saw the car lose control on the ice ahead._

* * *

 

     The contract had been drawn up and signed, and Belle French was now officially an employee at Mr. Gold’s Pawn Shop. She and her father had finally moved everything back into his apartment above the flower shop from hers under the broken clock tower. She’d spent her savings purchasing the little one bedroom when she first returned to town, and although she never moved in after seeing the state the business had been in, she was glad that there had been somewhere she and Moe could take refuge. She started her new job on a Monday and as her heels clicked against the pavement, she passed the townsfolk  whispering about her deal with the devil of Storybrooke. Belle didn’t know how long she stood in front of the shop door before she finally willed herself to go in. She finally got up her courage, took a breath, and counted to five before opening the door with a bright smile. She could make the most of this and finally have the adventure she’d always wanted, even if that adventure was only working for Mr. Gold.

     He was standing behind the counter waiting for her when she walked in. He actually looked surprised that she had shown up, but she just held her head up high and walked up to the counter.  “Where would you like me to start Mister Gold,” she asked.

     “It’s polishing day. You’ll need to polish the silver in that case,” he said pointing to a case on the opposite side of the room.

     “Anything else?”

     “Eager, are we Ms French? No, that should be enough to keep you busy for the day.” Gold said as he began to walk to the back room. “I’ll be in here if you need me, but Ms. French?”

     “Yes, Mister Gold?”

     “Don’t need me.”

     She waited until he had disappeared behind the curtain to roll her eyes and scoff. With a look at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, she set to work.

* * *

 

     “Tea, Ms. French?” 

     His voice startled her as she dropped the candlestick she had been polishing. “Please try not to break anything,” he accused as he set the tea service down on the counter.

     “Well maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people,” Belle retorted as she placed the candlestick back in its’ place.

     “Yes, well, my apologies Ms. French,” he mumbled as he set about pouring the tea into two cups.

     “You just surprised me,” she said as Gold placed a cup in front of her as well as the milk and sugar. Maybe there was another side, a softer side, to the mysterious Mister Gold that nobody was allowed to see.  

* * *

 

     Three months into her employment, Mister Gold had become comfortable leaving her alone in the shop while he did business elsewhere. Today, he’d left to run an errand while she sorted through the first edition books he’d acquired the weekend before. Soon enough, she was lost in the thrilling tales of King Arthur’s court.

* * *

 

He hadn’t meant to buy the blasted thing, but the little girl outside Town Hall had asked so nicely and her warm brown eyes reminded him of the little boy he’d lost. He’d left her change from a twenty and as if she knew she was witnessing something rare, she promised not to tell anyone that he had been there buying flowers. “Nobody would believe me anyway,” she’d said. It stung, even if she was right. One didn’t get the reputation he’d developed from buying flowers and leaving nearly twenty dollar tips. He was a monster, but the girl had been sweet, and her youthful enthusiasm had reminded him of the time Bailey had tried to go into business for himself at the experienced age of six. He’d set up a little stand at the end of the driveway selling lemonade to every passerby. When his eyes began to burn with the weight of his burdened, broken heart and unshed tears, he forced himself to think of other things. Maybe he’d give the rose to Ms. French, she seemed like the type to enjoy the infernal things even though she’d spent nearly her entire life working with them. “Maybe she’ll even smile,” he thought as he walked back into the shop.

She didn’t notice his presence until he’d placed the rose over the pages, blocking her sight of the words. “If you’ll have it,” he said with a flourish. She lifted the rose to her nose, breathing it in.

“You know,” she began, a light blush coloring her cheeks, “you’re not as terrible as you make yourself out to be.” His eyes dropped to the box before them, a small smile breaking through his cold features.

They settled into a routine after that, Belle would arrive and Gold would give her the daily assignments and he’d then be at his desk in the back room unless a customer ventured in. After the initial rush of customers, they’d take tea and eat lunch. Sometimes they talked about the treasures hidden in the cases about the shop, while other times they talked about her dreams and plans outside Storybrooke. Gold never willingly divulged anything about his past other than that he had come from Glasgow for university. Belle could see something flash across his face whenever their conversations skirted too close to his murky past. While working for him, she quickly learned there was something underneath the mask he wore, and she was sure that the cruel miser persona was an act. After that initial week, he’d stopped barking at her and treated her more as an employee and not simply as someone desperate to save their father from destitution.

Belle knew her father wasn’t as keen at business as he’d led her to believe growing up. Honestly, she suspected her mother had handled the money and when she died, her father had been left with no idea how to successfully run a business while also raising a teenage daughter. She’d returned from university with a master’s degree in hand and ready to make her own way in the world. With her scholarship completely covering her undergraduate and master’s programs, she hadn’t expected her father’s business to be in shambles and him deep in debt. She’d stayed in town to help him and try to get the business back on track and making a profit, but it wasn’t enough. Now nearly two years after she’d returned,  they were still barely able to keep food on the table. Then things had taken a turn for the worse, after he’d taken out one loan too many and, before she knew it, Mister Gold had come to collect what Moe had signed over, and she’d been forced to become the lender’s shop assistant.

     She didn’t know when her feelings began to change or when her retorts became more humorous and not looking to wound. Perhaps it was around the time when her glances became lingering and she noticed just how warm and brown his eyes were, or when she started to purposefully seek him out throughout the day. She liked his soft smiles, which he always tried to hide, and the way his quips made her really laugh. When she was with him, she could almost pretend they’d met under more auspicious circumstances. She could pretend that he truly cared for her and the love she read about in books was true. 

     Gold had come to realize that hiring Belle French had been a terrible idea. He had needed the extra help and it seemed like the perfect way to show that nobody weaseled out of his deals. He’d never expected that he would come to care for her. Her bright eyes and even brighter smile brought light back into his ever dark and dusty shop. She made him want to be a better person and he knew that he’d walk through anything to keep a smile on her face. Gold knew that their time together was limited as she was set to pay off her father’s debt within the next two months but he wanted nothing more than to keep her with him. He could rage and threaten and she’d stay out of sense of duty to her father. However, he’d be keeping her away from what she truly wanted and that wasn’t him; after all, who would truly want him? No, if he kept her hidden away in that dusty shop, she’d close herself off. In time she’d become more and more like him, cold and resentful, and that was a fate too horrible to imagine for someone so bright and loving as she was. When the time came, he’d gracefully let her go so she could live out her dreams, and he’d look back on their time together with a warmth in his heart that hadn’t been present in years.

     He didn’t expect her to feel the same way, but at night, in his cold and empty house, he could pretend they were just normal people who had met on the street. He could pretend he wasn’t the town monster who had threatened them with homelessness at Christmas, he could pretend he wasn’t haunted by the ghosts of his past, and he could pretend that someone could actually love him. 


	4. Chapter 4

_It had been a year since the accident and Milah had left as well. With Bailey gone, there was no reason for her to stay. She’d left a note explaining that she’d never loved him, at least not how he loved her and that she’d wanted to leave years ago, but their son had deserved both parents. Bae didn’t deserve to grow up in broken homes like they had. Now that he was gone, it was her chance to find a better life._

_She’d written, “In this tragedy and heartbreak I can find happiness in the ashes of what has been left behind. I’m going to find that happiness and I think he’d want us to be happy, even if it’s not with each other.”_

_Gold was never the same after that, he shut himself off from the town and when he emerged, he was not the man they remembered. He had changed, as if something evil had taken root in him, the people of Storybrooke whispered. In a sense, they were right; something had taken root in his heart, but it wasn’t evil. It was emptiness and despair. How was he supposed to carry on with his life and remain unchanged when his entire world was buried underneath layers of snow and dirt? He would never forgive himself and he’d make damn sure nobody else did either._

* * *

 

     “You can call me Belle, you know,” she whispered as she brought her cup to her lips. She’d been working for him for nearly a year and they’d been dancing around each other for months. It was nearly Christmas again and the tinsel covering every available surface of town made her think back to the moment they’d met the year before. She knew there had to have been something behind the hateful person he pretended to be. He’d changed, more or less. His new temperament was only witnessed by her with his piercing gazes, quiet laughs, and mock offense when she playfully scolded him. Although, the approaching holiday season had done nothing to ease his mood and his eyes were darker than she’d seen them since he’d arrived at Game of Thorns that day a year ago.

     “Belle,” he murmured and his finger grazed her arm as he leaned against the counter. “According to my ledger, your time here is nearly done. What ever are you going to do with your free time?” Gold whispered, looking away from her. He’d been dreading this moment for months.

     “I don’t know, perhaps I’ll go to Boston for a bit. I’ve been trying to save up now that Dad’s got his finances under control,” she said wistfully. Gold’s heart started to break. She’d unknowingly brought color back to his grayscale world and shown him that there were still small flickers of light amidst the darkness. He’d been so alone since Bae had died, and the final blow had come when Milah walked out. Nobody could ever love him; not his father, not Milah, and certainly not Belle. She was soft and warm, while he was frigid and lived with demons in his head and ghosts of holidays past in his heart. She was wonderful, but he had to let her go.

     He had that sad look in his eyes again and Belle wondered what he could be thinking about. She had noticed it darken his features more and more as Christmas quickly approached. She covered his hand with hers and watched as his eyes met hers once again. She offered a small smile as she began to stroke his thumb. “What’s wrong,” she asked gently when he smiled a watery smile in return.

     “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about filthy the place will be when you’re gone,” he quipped.

     She narrowed her eyes at him and playfully swatted his arm.

     “Belle, it’s noon. Why don’t you go home and spend Christmas Eve with your father? Consider our deal concluded.”

     She reached across the counter and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mister Gold,” she whispered.

     “You’re, uh, you’re welcome, dear” he said. He watched as she gathered her coat and walked towards the door. He cleared his throat, “Laird.”

     “I’m sorry?”

     “My name. It’s Laird,” he continued.

     She smiled and said, “Well, merry Christmas…Laird.”

     He nodded and she gave him one last look as she walked out the door. He didn’t expect his heart, shriveled and black as it was, to hurt this much. She was gone, just like everyone else in his life; she had gone and left him alone. He swept the tea things to the floor with one motion, releasing his inner frustration,  before flipping the sign to closed and getting out the scotch he kept in his desk. He’d stay here tonight, he couldn’t face his empty house alone. Not tonight.

* * *

     Even though Belle was happy that her business with Mister Gold, Laird- she corrected, was concluded, she couldn’t help feeling sad. She realized that she missed him; that she loved him. She sat curled in a chair while her father snored lightly with “It’s a Wonderful Life” playing on the telly. She needed to see Gold, but he couldn’t possibly feel the same way. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, “ _Always do the brave thing, Belle. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._ ” She slipped out of the apartment before she could change her mind.

* * *

     The scotch was finally doing its’ job and Gold was blissfully numb. Any thoughts of Bailey, Milah, or his father that made it through the alcohol induced haze did not leave him feeling hopeless for once. He finally dozed off at his desk and awoke to a dark sky and a pounding on the back door that echoed the pounding headache that was beginning to form between his temples.

* * *

     She noticed that his car was still parked on the street in front of the shop, as she walked past his shop to get to his house. After peering in the window, she noticed a soft glow coming from behind the curtain separating the showroom from the back of the pawn shop. She walked around to the back door and finally saw him slumped over his desk with a bottle still in his hand. She sighed, and wondered, “What past disaster had happened to him that he spent Christmas Eve stuck in a bottle?” She began banging on the door to wake him up. He needed to know that someone cared about him; that someone loved him.  

* * *

     “Shite,” he thought as he stumbled to his feet and saw Belle standing at the door. “Belle, what are you doing here?” he said as he opened the door.

     “You shouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone,” Belle whispered as she offered a small smile.

     “No.” Gold said, blocking the door.

     “Why don’t you want company, on tonight of all nights? It’s a season of joy, love, and happiness,” Belle asked, her arms crossing against her chest.

     “This wretched season has brought me nothing but despair since I was a child. Is that reason enough for you? Just, please leave and let me celebrate in peace,” he sneered and began closing the door.

     “No, I’m not leaving. You just need to know that someone cares about you.”

     He scoffed, “Really? Who in this pathetic town cares about me?”

     “I do,” Belle said as she pushed past him into the shop.

     “Belle, what are you doing?” he asked as her hand came up and rested on his cheek.

     “I’m doing the brave thing,” she whispered as she leaned up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

     When their lips met, Gold felt every nerve ending in his body suddenly come alive. When she kissed him, it felt as though he really was cared for; truly loved. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. God, he loved her, but when Belle’s fingers came up to tangle in his hair the nagging voice in his head suddenly grew unbearable. He gently pushed her away and whispered, “Nobody could ever love me.” Her brow wrinkled in confusion as he continued, “I’ve always been alone; everybody leaves in the end.”

     “What do you mean, ‘Everyone leaves?”

     “It’s exactly how it sounds, dearie” he snapped, his eyes blazing. “My father, my wife, m-my son.” Belle could see the pain in his eyes and waited for him to continue. “I’m not worth the effort it takes to stay,”

     “What was his name,” she asked as she stroked his arm.

     “Bae. Well, Bailey. It was one of the largest snowfalls we’ve ever had. ‘Blizzard conditions’ they said. His mother and I, we were never right for each other.” Gold started, looking away from Belle and focusing on the football of Bae’s he’d hidden away on a shelf. He swallowed a sob and continued, “She was searching for a fight and while I was trying to calm her down, he slipped out into the storm. We didn’t even know he was gone until the sheriff came to the door. They never knew who was driving.”

     He felt his eyes lose focus and knew they were red and puffy from the alcohol. Gold felt Belle’s hand gently squeeze his arm. “She left the next year, around the same time actually. She left a note saying she couldn’t bear to be unhappy any longer and said ‘it’s what he’d want’. I never saw her again. I shut the world out and I never let anyone break past that barrier. Until you,” he finished, his voice growing fainter.

     He wasn’t looking at her, but Belle could see the pain in his eyes. She didn’t know how to comfort him. Losing a child had to be the hardest thing for any parent to go through.  Having that loss compounded by the woman who had sworn to stand by his side walking out when they needed each other most must have been devastating. She reached up and cradled his face with her hands. “You’re worth the effort, Laird. I wouldn’t leave you, I love you.”

     Gold felt his pulse quicken as he wrapped his arms around Belle and pulled her into a hug. With her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, he whispered, “And I love you too.”

* * *

     Belle woke up to a heavy arm slung across her middle and Laird’s breath on her neck. They’d spent the night talking about their pasts and their future. Laird had talked about going to New York together for the New Year’s celebration in Times Square. She’d finally fallen asleep with his jacket around her shoulders and her face resting on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat through his dress shirt. She smiled as she slowly extracted himself from his grip and began looking for something to write with. She needed to get back to her father’s apartment; although after the new year she’d move into her apartment above the library. As she finished up her note, she slipped on her boots and wrapped her sweater tighter around herself. She placed the paper on the pillow next to him and softly kissed his forehead before slipping quietly out the back door.

* * *

 

     Waking up on Christmas morning was usually a depressing affair for Gold, but this year, the weight on his chest had lifted a little; the pain wasn’t as sharp and the wounds weren’t as raw. He smiled as he thought of Belle curled in his arms whispering promises of love and happiness. He reached out to embrace her one more time, but his heart sank as he felt nothing but air. Before he could panic, he noticed a piece of paper floating to the floor. He felt the familiar weight return and his heart flutter. He picked it up and read her handwriting, expecting the worst.

_Laird,_

_Don’t worry, this isn’t goodbye. I just needed to get back to Dad’s for breakfast. You looked so peaceful sleeping that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. Call me when you wake up and we can meet up for dinner if you’d like? Remember, I love you. I want to be with you and give this relationship a chance. Merry Christmas, darling._

_Belle_

     With tears brimming his eyes, he folded the note and tucked it away in his pants pocket. He was going to go home and shower, then call Belle. Maybe he’d even try to throw together a quick Christmas dinner for them. As he drove home, Gold couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t dread going into his empty house. For the first time since the accident that had taken his son away from him, Laird Gold was  _happy_.   


End file.
